The senator from Texas, the frog on the left, spoke vehement frog talk to the frog senator from Florida, the frog on the right.
As the Florida senator spoke, the Texan senator turned as if to hop on out of the hot seat, or off the hot leaf as case in fact, it was.
Soon the leaf they both clung to with their slimy, webbed feet, became so hot from the summer sun, both had to leap without securing a landing spot, leaving the steaming leaf vacant and ready for newer, slimier frogs.
In response to GirlieOnTheEdge’s Six Sentence Story Thursday Link Up! PROMPT WORD: EXCHANGE
This is a story about two women who loved the same man and the man who loved them, albeit in different ways and with a different type of passion for each, as the women were not at all alike, yet both filled him with joy and happiness and completed him where only one never could.
The problem of course, was that neither woman knew about the other as one was a wife to the man of many years and the other a girlfriend and lover, also of many years yet, neither had ever discovered the truth in all that time because the man loved and adored both, he was very careful lest he loose one or both of them should they discover the truth about the double life he led.
On Valentine’s Day, toward late afternoon, each of the women received a huge flower arrangement containing their favorite blossoms, red roses for the wife and white daisies with baby’s breath for the girlfriend.
The man left handwritten cards to be delivered with the flowers that day, unfortunately the girl at the flower shop was new and became quite confused about which arrangement went to which woman, and unwilling to admit she was discombobulated, she completed the sale and sent him on his way.
So it was that each lady received the other ladies flowers and the very personal correspondence attached declaring his undying love and commitment to each, except the names were incorrect on each woman’s card.
Much to his surprise, his wife did not ask for a divorce at all, but requested an exchange in that the wife wanted to be the girlfriend and so the girlfriend became the wife and the wife became the girlfriend and the man lived a happy but extremely tiring life for a very, very long time.
We hugged, we talked, we laughed, we loved. We tried not to think about what the morning would bring as our eyes met across the busy café tables, I was struck with a feeling of despair so deep, I shivered and tears swam uninvited beneath my lashes.
Noticing my distress, and she always noticed everything, she comprehended my sudden emotional dive into depression.
“It will be okay Babe. I know it’s a long deployment, but think of the benefits, plus extra for hazard pay. We’ll be able to get that condo on the beach we want when I get back, ok?”
She brushed a tear from my cheek with the back of her soft, but very strong hand.
We spent the rest of the day touring the city that would one day be our home. She ate caramel and I ate fudge. Our lips met and we tasted an exquisite explosion of sweet, saltiness between us.
All of these memories cascaded inside my mind, coming to a full halt at the site of a military officer standing at my front door, holding a perfectly folded American flag beneath his arm.
In response to Prompt Of the Week by Lady Jabberwocky – Turtle Power
I sat beneath its picture there depressed sad and alone that night with rain cold and wind howling at my windows hard
Staring at its lovely blue-green form I thought I saw it’s big flipper move Shaking my head I squinted my eyes sure as I was it was all in my head
Then a soft voice slid from the beak stout and strong with a whisper so sweet I sat down on the floor with a plunk I landed feeling no pain
Turning her head she spoke to me a gentle wisp of a sound with bubbles around her neck and face then she smiled and bid me not be afraid
How is it, she asked, that you gaze upon me day after day and year after year longing for the sea but you remain here sad and unwell?
Astounded I could only remain mute shaking my head and scrubbed my eyes to find her sitting on the floor right next to me there
She lay her heavy heavy head upon my knee and cocked her neck to gaze up at me so serene and calm like this was commonplace
To speak with a blue turtle from the aged picture on my wall How? I asked at which she smiled I had no idea a blue turtle could smile
Smile she did showing teeth and tongue and she said it was time for us to begin our trek to the sea where we wanted to be after all
I felt a gust of wind and a cold spray on my face tasted salt on my lips and tried to stand up finding flippers for feet
And a strong tail where my rump should be then I twisted my neck to find a shell on my back glistening blue and gold against
A deep sunset surrounded by miles and miles of soft sand that warmed my soul from my top to my end I asked her in turtle about her name
Again she smiled and she winked this time saying I had gotten it all wrong you see as she was a he and I was the she together we dove into the deep blue sea
Please vote if you’d like! My entry is #3 on the list! Thank you! 🙏
Congratulations, Gypsie-Ami! You are a finalist in the Your Story #118 contest – you are listed as #3.
Here is the link to the voting page where readers can vote for your story until October 7, 2022, for a chance to appear in the January/February 2023 issue of Writer’s Digest magazine: https://www.writersdigest.com/wd-competitions/your-story-118
In response to Wordle #560 The Sunday Whirl Hosted by bwarren
It was an obsession, complete and total lack of impulse control. The library was one of the best places to stalk, the line of bookshelves worked like magic to camouflage even the softest thud of a footfall.
If one needed to hunch over suddenly, it would look perfectly normal; as though searching for a book on the bottom shelf. The flickering fluorescent light helped to disguise my presence to him. The remembrance of his cruel rejection forced a quiet sigh from my lips, just before the monsoon of tears ran down my cheeks.
It lay just over the tallest hill, but seemed as far away as the sun to her. The veil of freedom, heavily guarded and not traversed in over one hundred years. There was a good reason for this, death.
The veil hovered over the foothills like a shroud. It beckoned the unwary, called to the weak and spit out the despoilers and oppressors. It knew, the veil knew and could not be fooled. One step into its mist and the persons heart intent was read, tried and judged. If the veil deemed a person worthy, he or she could pass unharmed into, into what was believed to be, paradise.
However, if a persons heart held darkness or there was evil found in the soul, death was immediate. The veil had once been used as a barometer of good versus bad, in that, when a person committed a crime, they had to face the veil for judgement.
Eventually, use of the veil for this purpose had been outlawed, deemed to be cruel and unusual punishment. A huge, electric fence was built on the half moon front of the mist and there was talk of building a wall to keep people out.
Still, there were several attempts a month as people scaled the fence, suffered electrical burns and attempted to cross the veil’s border. Some made it through, others were spit out mangled, disfigured and dead.
The young mother strapped her newborn to her back tightly and securely. He was her life, her joy and her tragedy. After an ultrasound, early in her pregnancy, a severe birth defect was found. Her government offered medications, provided her with pamphlets on how to nurture and raise a challenged child, then sent her on her way.
They also required that she sign a contractual agreement stating she understood abortion was illegal. She would be prosecuted for attempting an at-home termination of the pregnancy and she would not harm her child after birth. She had been placed on a government watch list, in case she did try to travel else where for a termination procedure.
She had obligingly signed the forms and walked home. Now she stood at the bottom of the electric fence, her baby wrapped in a protective rubberized blanket and waited for a signal from one of the descendant volunteers, which would be her cue to climb using the rubberized mitts and her new, very thick sneakers.
A bird call, the hoot of a long extinct owl and it was time for her to bolt. She bolted!
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 